This speech was fiercely answered by a dark, lowering looking savage, who stood among the crowd.
"That is Corbitant," said Mary,---"What is it that he says?"
"Your father say Indian arrow be broken at Naumkeak," replied Hobomok,---"Corbitant say the feather be first red with white man's blood."
He would have added more, but the vessels were now sweeping past the rock on which they stood, and every eye was fixed on their motion. Many a hearty salutation, and blunt compliment were paid to Sally Oldham, and many a hat was waved in respectful adieu to Mrs. Conant and her daughter. The loud response which the sailors gave to the kind farewells of their friends on shore, was soon lost in the distance, and one by one the people slowly dispersed. Mrs. Conant took the arm of her husband, and Mary lingered far behind, in hopes of obtaining a conference with Sally Oldham. But one Mr. Thomas Graves seemed to have been deeply smitten with the comely countenance of the latter damsel; and never for a moment doubting that the fascination was reciprocal, he became somewhat obtrusively officious. It was singular to observe the difference of deportment between him and the Indian. Whenever Hobomok gazed upon Mary, it was with an expression in which reverence was strikingly predominant. And now, with more than his usual taciturnity, he walked at a short distance before them, and eagerly pointed with his bow, when it was necessary to obviate any little difficulties in their path. But he from the Isle of Wight, seemed resolved that one of the young ladies should be aware of the presence of a noisy admirer, and with abundance of stammering awkwardness, he began, "You are Mr. Oldham's daughter, I think?"
"I have been told so, sir," replied the mischievous girl.
"The world is dark and dismal enough in any place," continued the man of a wo-begone countenance,--- "more especially when we think of the regiments of sin which are marching up and down in its borders; but I should think it would be ten times darker to a well-favored young woman, here in this wilderness."
"If you mean me," answered the maiden, "I pass my time merry enough, in the long run; but there is no danger of our forgetting the dolors while we have your visage amongst us."
"I sha'nt be called to give an account of my looks," replied the offended suitor, "inasmuch as God made them in such form and likeness as pleased him. But I perceive you have no savor of goldliness about you, and are clean carried away by the crackling thorns of worldly mirth."
"My friend is like Rachel of old," interrupted her smiling companion. "She feedeth her cattle and draweth them water, and waiteth for some Jacob to journey hither."
"And what would you say, damsel, if he were at your very door," rejoined Mr. Graves, with an uncouth distension of his jaws, which was doubtless meant for one of love's gentle, insinuating smiles. "And when Jacob knew Rachel he kissed her," continued he, as he courageously put his arm round her neck, to suit his action to the words.
"I have had enough of that from the sanctified Mr. Lyford," said the resolute maiden, as she gave him a blow, which occasioned a sudden and involuntary retreat.
"Well done, Sally," said the hoarse voice of her father, who just then stept from among the trees, half choked with laughter, and for a moment forgetful of the decorum which he usually maintained in her presence. "Why, fellow, thou'rt smitten indeed; but it ill beseemeth thee to put on a rueful face at this disaster. The damsel is not worth the tears, which an onion draweth forth."
Sally gladly left her discomfited lover to recover himself as he could, and bidding a hasty good-morning to Hobomok, as he stood laughing and muttering to himself, she followed Mary, who with an air of girlish confidence had beckoned her into a narrow footpath which led through the woods. For a few moments the girls united in almost convulsive fits of laughter.
"Did you ever see such a fellow?" said Sally. "Every day since they landed, he has been at my elbow, trying to make love by stammering and stuttering about the crackling thorns of worldly mirth; and I verily think he believes that I have been greatly delighted therewith. A plague on all such sanctified looking folks. There was Mr. Lyford, (I don't care if he was a minister) he was always talking about faith and righteousness, and the falling-off of the Plymouth elders, and yet many a sly look and word he'd give me, when his good-woman was out of the way. I marvel that fools can always find utterance, inasmuch as some men of sense are so dumb."
"Men of sense will speak all in good time, if you will wait patiently," answered Mary. "But you don't know how glad I am that it happened to be your father, instead of mine, who saw you strike Mr. Graves."
"So am I," replied her companion. "Though he is your father, to my thinking he is over fond of keeping folks in a straight jacket; and I'm sure our belt is likely to be buckled tight enough by the great folks there in London. In my poor judgment it is bad enough that we've come over into this wilderness to find elbow room for our consciences, without being told how long a time we may have to stop and breathe in. Every bout I knit in my stocking is to be set down in black and white, and sent over to the London Company forsooth. I suppose by and by the drops we drink and the mouthfuls we eat must be counted, and their number sent thither."
"I am sure," replied Mary, "when you remember how many Indians we have lately met, whom Morton's unthinking wickedness has armed with powder and firelocks, you will be glad that we have three hundred more defenders around us, whatever price we may pay therefor. Indeed Sally, I'm weary of this wilderness life. My heart yearns for England, and had it not been for my good mother, I would gladly have left Naumkeak to-day."
"I can't but admire ye've been content so long, Miss Mary, considering what ye left behind you. If you'd staid there, who knows but you might have been Lady Lincoln? But as for this purlieu of creation, I know of no chance a body has for a husband, without they pick up some stray Narraganset, or wandering Tarateen."
"O, don't name such a thing," said Mary, shuddering.
"Why, what makes you take me in earnest?" answered Sally. "But perhaps since there are so many young folks to pick and choose among, you'll be weary of my crackling mirth, as that stupid Graves calls it."
"No, Sally, these new comers won't make me forget how kind you have always been in sickness and health; but, to tell you the truth, there is something troubles me---and if you'll promise not to tell of it, I'll tell you."
"O, I'll promise that, and keep it too. If I was disposed to tell your secrets, I don't know any body but owls and bats I should tell them too."
"Well then, you must know, the other night I did a wicked thing. It frightens me to think thereof. You know the trick I told you about? Well, a few weeks ago, I tried it; and just as I was saying over the verses the third time, Hobomok, the Indian, jumped into the circle."
"Hobomok, the Indian!"
"Yes;---and I screamed when I saw him."
"I believe so indeed. But was it he, real flesh and blood?"
"It was he himself; though I thought at first, it must be his ghost?"
"But how came he there, at that time of night?"
"That's more than I can tell. He said he came to throw a bow on the sacrifice heap, down in Endicott's hollow; but I don't know what should put it into his head just at that time. What do you suppose did?"
"I'm sure I don't know, Mary. I think it is an awful wicked thing to try these tricks. There's no telling what may come of asking the devil's assistance. He is an acquaintance not so easily shook off, when you've once spoke with him, to my certain knowledge. My father says he's no doubt the Lord has given Beelzebub power to choose many a damsel's husband, to recompense her for such like wickedness. I'm sure I have been curious enough to know, but I never dared to speak to Satan about the matter."
"I believe it is a sin to be repented of; but what could I do? Father won't suffer me to see Charles any where, if he can help it; and if I dared to be